


It's Always Sunny in South Africa

by MonoclePony



Series: Saddles and Stirrups [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Barebacking, Dirty Talk, I'm embarrassed, M/M, NR verse, NSFW, Praise Kink, Smut, smut with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonoclePony/pseuds/MonoclePony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 years after the events of No Reins, Marco Bodt's life couldn't be more different. Hitting big circuits with grand prix champions as his competition, he and his giant black horse are unstoppable. Unfortunately, this time comes with a price, and that is that time spent with Jean is growing shorter and shorter. But when there is time for Jean to fly over and spend some time with him, they are definitely going to make the most of it, if Jean's insatiable thirst has anything to say about it.<br/>Even if he's jet-lagged.<br/>~20k hits of No Reins thank you~</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always Sunny in South Africa

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 'explicit' rated oneshot on here I'm sorry ancestors  
> Anyway, this is to commemorate No Reins hitting 20k in hits a few weeks ago- trust me, I was very unprepared for it but am very, very grateful for how many people have sat and enjoyed my fic. It means so much, as someone who barely shared any of their writing beforehand...  
> Now...n-now I'm writing smut for you.  
> How the tide has turned~  
> Anyway, enjoy guys! And try not to think less of me, I will go and hide in cliffhanger jail now for what I did in SFS *scuttles away*

Marco had never been a massive fan of airports. He hadn’t gone on holidays abroad when he was younger, as the stables always took priority over everything else. Airports were loud, busy, stress-inducing places, and Marco much preferred to keep to the back. Unfortunately, travelling across the globe competing in circuits meant that he saw his fair share of airports, and was forced to suck up the nerves that attacked his usually strong stomach and deal with it.

This time, though, he had a reason to look forward to it.

As the speaker system above him announced the flight from Trost as ‘arrived’ instead of ‘delayed’, Marco felt that familiar flutter in his stomach. He was waiting at the back of arrivals, arms folded tightly against his chest and sunglasses trying to cover as much of his face as possible. He wasn’t exactly an A list celebrity, but he’d been warned that there were sports journalists prowling around after a tip off and wanted to keep as low a profile as he could possibly manage. Obviously, that was going to be completely broken when he saw his boyfriend of five years step into the room, but he could feign professionalism for as long as he needed to.

The South African circuit was long, the competition broken up into a series of tournaments within the space of a few weeks. The team had only landed from their long flight to Cape Town from Stohess a few days ago, and Marco still wasn’t quite over his jetlag. Still, the horses had arrived yesterday and Titan was looking better than ever, so that was all that mattered. He hated going through the health checks and quarantine measures, always convinced that his horse was going to have picked up some exotic condition from how often he travelled, but Titan had been given a clean bill of health and was currently filling his belly with the most premium feed money could buy. The vets that checked him over had mentioned the little ‘issue’ of him being a rig, but it was nothing Marco hadn’t heard before. His gelding was a fake-gelding, but his fieldmates were stallions and Titan definitely gave as good as he got.

The moment he knew he was here for the long haul, though, he’d given Jean a call. And Jean, just as quickly, managed to book a flight. He had also, to Marco’s amusement, brought Sina along for the ride, and Marco had been informed that the mare would be out of quarantine in the next couple of days. Jean was adamant it was to give Titan the company, but Marco knew it was more to do with the fact that Jean couldn’t leave Sina alone for a single minute.

He checked his watch for what seemed like the thousandth time, frowning as he looked back at the arrivals board. _He should be out by now. Should be getting to baggage claim. Maybe he lost a bag? What if he got on the wrong plane? Oh god, that sounded like Jean, off on a trip to Italy instead of…_

His thoughts were cut off abruptly as the first few people began to filter out from the arrivals gate, smiling and waving at family or just looking around in sheer amazement at their first glimpse of different soil. Some looked plain terrified from the miracle of flight. Marco was always the latter. He scooted a little closer to the front, wondering whether or not he should have brought a sign with Jean’s name on like everyone else had, but then his heart stopped.

A slender, excitable looking man was having a disagreement with his suitcase. It seemed to be caught on something, and no matter how hard he yanked, it would not come loose. “Come on you piece of shit motherfucking useless-” he grunted, giving it one final pull before it finally came free with a creak. He looked tired, the dark shadows under his eyes a stark contrast to his fair skin, but when his eyes flickered up as if daring anyone to judge him, they fell directly on Marco. The amber-fire flashed. Marco shoved his sunglasses in his pocket.

Suddenly, the bag was of no consequence. Jean dropped it halfway into his sprint across the room and leapt into Marco’s arms, legs immediately wrapping around his waist like a koala as Marco staggered back with the sheer force of the run. He held on just as tight, burying his face in Jean’s hair and kissing every part of his neck he could find. He tried to ignore the soft ‘aww’s from the other people waiting for their families, but laughed at the way Jean speckled every part of his face with kisses; eyelids, nose, eyebrows, nothing was spared. Marco giggled through the attention and smoothed one hand up and down Jean’s back. “Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned, squeezing him just a little too tight.

Jean moved his gaze up to lock with Marco’s, and then they were kissing. Jean’s lips were insistent, hungry, but Marco’s inner monologue reminded him that yes, they were in a public place and _yes_ people were starting to stare, and so kept it light, only swiping his tongue against Jean’s lips for a moment to taste the crappy still lemonade he’d most likely been downing on the flight over. Jean moved away with a single parting kiss to Marco’s tender lips, then tucked his head in against Marco’s chest to find other areas to plant his lips to. Marco laughed at how these kisses tickled. “Missed you, you fucking fuckhead,” was Jean’s eloquent response between kisses.

“I know, baby, I know.” Marco kissed the side of his head with a sigh, the familiar scent of rain and faint hay pricking at his eyes. “S’been too long.”

“Hmph.” Jean’s grip around his neck tightened.

“Want me to go get your suitcase?” he asked, eyes falling to where the suitcase had been abandoned. Other arrivals were beginning to step over it and glare in their general direction. Marco was also pretty sure all of Jean’s money was in it.

“Fuck my suitcase, just need you,” Jean pouted, running his hand through Marco’s hair and tugging at it in places. It had grown thicker. Jean had obviously noticed. “Jus’ need you, an’ the horses, an’ a bed…”

“Hopefully not all at once.”

“Smartarse.”

Marco laughed and tried to walk forwards with Jean still clinging to him. He managed to waddle, by the grace of god, over to the suitcase and swiped for it with a hand. He huffed good-naturedly. “Baby, you’re gonna have to let go, I can’t get your case.”

“Nnnooooo.”

“Baby, please…”

“NNNOOOO.”

Marco rolled his eyes. It took him about five minutes to prise Jean off of him, and once he was back on solid ground Jean gave him another long, searing kiss before regretfully pulling away. He took his suitcase in one hand, and slipped his other down into Marco’s back pocket, leaning into his stride as they walked through the airport to the sight of more than a few judgemental eyes. Still, they were foreigners, and foreigners meant tourists. “How’s everything going here, then?” Jean asked once he was finally able to talk without wanting to kiss some part of Marco. “Titan training well?”

Marco smiled. Jean talked in priorities: Marco first, horses second. Marco sometimes thought he was lucky to be above the horses, in all honesty. “He’s doing good,” he replied, steering Jean to the right of border control. “He’s a little fidgety after his fight but at least we don’t have to sedate him anymore. Did pretty well at Stohess, we got knocked into a top spot after the jump-offs.”

“That’s amazing!” Jean grinned. “When’s the first big comp here?”

“In about a week. It gives the riders and horses time to settle down, train a little and get prepared.” Marco gave Jean a smile. “Or, in my team’s language, have a mini holiday and lounge by the pool. With a bit of training on the side.”

“You have a _pool_ at the hotel?”

“Yeah, but the beach is close too.”

“There’s a _BEACH?_ ”

As it happened, the moment Jean got through the door of Marco’s hotel room (embarrassing himself in the lobby by shouting a very loud “FUCK this place is huge”) he didn’t go to the beach, or the pool, or try to fuck himself on Marco as he so lewdly suggested in the taxi on the way back- instead, he fell asleep. The moment a soft, horizontal surface was available, Jean was out like a light and snoring. Marco couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned against the doorway to his en-suite. “What was that about riding me so hard I’d see the Big Bang happening in reverse?” he teased, arching a brow at the muffled groan Jean made in response. “Or the way you were gonna swim to Jinae and back the minute you saw a large expanse of water?” More groaning. Marco tittered. “Your stamina is staggering, you know.”

“Smr’ar’,” Jean mumbled into the pillow. Marco translated it to ‘smartarse’.

Marco crossed the room to flop onto the bed, dislodging another groan from his suffering boyfriend, and hovered above him with a bright grin. “Aw, is someone a little jet-lagged?” he cooed, kissing the question into the back of Jean’s neck. It was a widely known fact that Jean didn’t take kindly to travelling; Marco’s entire team was aware that when Jean ever flew out to meet Marco, he would instantly need to catch up on his compromised Z’s. When they had stopped over in France, his snoring was heard all the way down the hotel corridor. Hilariously, however, Jean always denied it no matter what.

“M’jus’tired,” he mumbled, as if on cue. He brought his shoulder up in acknowledgement of Marco’s kiss, but only gave a small hum in response. “Stupid woman on the flight…kept talkin’ a’ me…”

“Oh, poor baby.” Marco laughed at the irritable grunt Jean gave him, and slid his leg between Jean’s as he hovered. “Sorry, am I bothering you? Didn’t mean to,” he said, dipping down to kiss his shoulder through the material of his shirt. “I just missed you.” He nuzzled his face against the shaven part of Jean’s hair, giggling at how it tickled. It was growing out a little. He liked it.

Jean’s hum was a little more awake and pleased at that treatment, and he turned his face on the pillow to crack an eye open. He gave a tired smile. “Missed you too, you big nerd.” He tried to sluggishly bat Marco away, but he gave it up as too much effort before too long. “Ugh, you’re so _sexy_ when you’re tanned, it’s not fair,” he whined.

Marco giggled again and sank down so he had his whole body laid on top of him, ignoring the squeak of indignation as he wiggled their hips together. “Excuse you, gorgeous man, you’re the sexy one.”

“Marcooo,” Jean whined again, “Stop itttttt, you’re being cute and that ain’t _fair_.”

Marco trapped his tongue between his teeth and leaned closer. “Mmm, make me.”

“Ugh, believe me, I wanna.” Jean hissed as Marco grinded against him, and tiredly mimicked the movement. “Especially as you’re Mr. Thirst Machine. S’like a blue moon.”

“Oh, shush.” Marco bit his lip. “It’s just been a long time.”

They had both been feeling the distance this time. Marco always did, always pined a little bit, but the rush of competition and excitement of the circuits distracted him enough to reserve it for the phonecalls or Skype sessions he had with Jean in his hotel rooms. The South African circuit was slower, more drawn out, and coming directly from the Stohess tournament meant that he hadn’t had time to pop back for a visit in between. Two months was a long time for a couple who tended to spend every waking moment together- it was ten times worse when one side of the couple had a libido the size of a small country.

Jean had started off comparatively tame, merely sending him a few hotter than usual texts explaining just how much he missed him, but those quickly turned into pictures (he had to admit that Jean’s attempts at flirting were more hilarious than arousing, but he wasn’t complaining) and even stumbled their way onto Skype. At first, Marco hadn’t been keen- it was all well and good seeing Jean do things to himself that would have made the likes of Don Juan blush, but replicating them whilst Jean watched was another thing entirely. His mind, after all, was pretty much unblemished; Jean’s was, by comparison, a sewer.

They hadn’t exactly been saints, no, but nothing could really compare to the actual thing. Once Jean’s connection failed and Marco was left staring at a black screen with his afterglow fading around him, he felt more alone than ever. It wasn’t the same. He needed it on a more physical level. Breathing in Jean’s moans, running hands everywhere they could go, sucking marks into twitching skin… Marco craved it all. Making love with Jean was beyond anything he could describe, and never failed to send him reeling. Soon enough, he found that the anticipation often made it better.

Jean made a soft noise that sounded like agreement and landed a small, slow kiss on Marco’s chin, the closest part he could reach from his angle. “It has been a long time,” he murmured. His eyes were soft, a side to Jean not many saw, and Marco never lost the sense of privilege he felt for being one of the select few who did. Before he could start inching his hands under Jean’s shirt to squeeze his middle the way he liked, the other boy was snoring again.

Marco rolled his eyes, but knew better than to taunt a sleepy Jean further. He leant over to brush his lips against Jean’s cheek, and rolled away. _Honestly. The things he had to deal with._ He grabbed for his phone on the bedside table as something to do, and was greeted by a number of messages. None were of much importance, save for a demanding ‘did Jean get there safe’ from Eleanor. He was in the middle of wording a text to her about Jean’s usual drowsy antics, when another message popped into his inbox.

 **_From: Far C [15:34]_ ** _  
\- Hey dude, has the bae touched down?_

Marco grinned. Farlan. He was one of his teammates, and another of the Pixis University’s rising stars. Despite being a seasoned competitor and four years Marco’s senior, Farlan had welcomed to him to the team with open arms and quickly got Marco used to the alien goings on behind the top showjumping circuits of the world. He’d defended him from the sceptics and snobs who thought the young whippersnapper with a homebred horse had no place on an international circuit, and was the first to celebrate when Marco proved them very, very wrong. He was a good man, as equestrians went. They had quickly become friends, and Marco was forever grateful to him for including him in those early months. Jean, however, wasn’t so keen.

Marco quickly fired out a reply.

 **_To: Far C [15:38]  
_ ** _\- Yep, out like a light right now…classic Jean_

 ** _From: Far C [15:40]_**  
_\- Haha don’t blame him, transatlantic flights suck  
\- bad bf sleeping w/o nookie_

 ** _To: Far C [15:43]_**  
_\- Haha oh trust me he’ll make up for it  
\- You should warn the others- we might be noisy_

 ** _From: Far C [15:45]_**  
_\- Noted  
\- Wanna go exercise the horses whilst mr sex bomb sleeps off his plane snoozies?_

Marco smiled. Now there was an idea. Titan definitely wouldn’t settle for the night until he was ridden, and Jean wouldn’t miss him for an hour or two- he was usually knocked out for at least three. He glanced over at his boyfriend, sleeping soundly, and figured it couldn’t hurt.

He padded about the hotel room as quietly as he was able, pulling on his casual riding clothes whilst sparing the occasional glance to Jean. He had the same heat rise to his cheeks that had started all those years ago, the heat that reminded him how he had the right to kiss and hold Jean more than anyone.

He snorted at himself at how sappy and immature it sounded. The scared eighteen year old still lived beneath his skin, wringing his hands and wondering what he’d possibly done to deserve this happiness. That innocence and anxiety would always be there, he knew. It would always strike at the most inconvenient of times, though it was less frequent than it had been before, but the result was still the same. He’d still end up wishing he didn’t exist and sweating like a hunted pig.

But Jean was there. Jean loved him. Jean understood, more than most, what it felt like to be scared. That was usually enough leverage to convince his addled brain that enough was enough, and there was a reason to be calm.

He scrawled a note to let Jean know where he’d gone and the number for room service (in case Jean did wake up alone in a strange hotel room) and left it on the side of the bed, doodling a ridiculously cute heart on the fold of the paper. Jean shuffled a little on the bed as Marco watched him, brows drawing together in a gentle frown, but Marco knew he wouldn’t be waking for quite some time. With a smile, he leant over and planted a kiss to the top of his head. A thrill still went through him at the realisation that Jean was actually _there,_ flesh and bone, and he couldn’t help planting another, just for good measure. He trailed a finger down Jean’s cheek, twitching at the way he frowned deeper and curled in on himself like a sulky child, and finally drew away from him. He shut the door gingerly behind him, his heart feeling rather full as he started to walk along the corridor towards the lift. With Jean around and Titan ready for a gallop, Marco couldn’t have felt happier, circuits be damned.

* * *

“Keep him cantering, he’s almost off-pace!”

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Hey, if you don’t want to take my advice you don’t have to!”

Marco laughed as he turned Titan in a wide arc, his horse blowing through his nostrils with every stride. As usual, Titan was beginning to misbehave; he was throwing his head up and trying to avoid Marco’s leg, preferring instead to move at his own furious pace. Marco looked down at the elegantly shaped ears flicking back and forth and softened his grip on the reins as they continued their large circle. Farlan was on the opposite end of the school turning in his own circle, the delicate chestnut he rode working obediently during its sweep of the grounds. Farlan’s stallion, the professionally named Folly X, was well known on the team for adopting a slow and steady approach to competitions which often lost them time, but he was improving with every competition and starting to reach times he could have scarcely dreamed off as a five year old. Farlan often joked that Titan’s unruly influence was starting to give Folly more confidence.

They met in the middle, sweeping past one another with a hair’s breadth between them and set out on the new curves, Marco following Farlan’s lead and shortening the rein to prevent Titan rushing off. His horse felt fresh and energised, the quarantine stalls giving him little chance to expel the high spirits that crackled under the surface, and Marco decided to break off the circle in order to lengthen his stride. Titan obeyed in an instant, head down in an attempt to snatch the bit, but Marco kept it as steady as he could.

Farlan had set up a practice jump in the centre of one of the circles, and it was that Marco pointed Titan towards, keeping his legs clamped to the gelding’s sides as the obstacle loomed into his vision. Titan’s ears flicked forwards, his playfulness diverting into something more serious as he levelled out and straightened his approach. Marco kept his eye on Farlan, checking that he would be out of harm’s way before nudging Titan’s sides and encouraging him on with a click of his tongue. Titan left the ground with a proud flick of his tail, and landed with a foot to spare. “Good boy!” Marco grinned, dropping a rein to pat the arched neck. Titan let out a low yet tired sounding whicker and dropped down to a trot, and finally to a walk, stretching his limbs and enjoying the attention.

“He looks better and better every day, you know,” Farlan called out from his circle. He’d dropped Folly back to a walk too, and the young stallion was blowing hard. “He jumps everything like it’s gonna kill him.”

Marco chuckled. “I guess it’s what works for him.” Titan slowly followed Marco’s gentle nudges and walked back to meet the other pair, his tail smacking lazily against his hind legs as he moved. “I don’t want to overdo it- the climate’s not exactly what he’s used to.”

Farlan grinned. “We got ourselves our celtic boys,” he joked, giving Folly a generous pat when the stallion seemed to snort in agreement. “Not used to the heat or the excitement.”

“Honestly, I think Titan’s starting to miss home,” Marco said, stroking small circles against his horse’s powerful shoulder. “Give him mist and rain any day.” He thought back to Jean, asleep in his room, and knew that the homesickness was definitely down to him, too.

“I’m inclined to agree with him,” Farlan replied, “seeing as I either burn or get heatstroke in this sun. Damn the Irish blood in my veins, eh?”

They walked the two horses back to the stables slowly, letting their reins droop against the sweaty necks and leaving their feet free of the stirrups as they talked. Marco’s attention, however, was most definitely on the boy asleep in his hotel room, and Farlan seemed to know it. After he’d had to ask Farlan to repeat himself for the third time, he just got a laugh. “Honestly, Marco, you’re so in love it’s sickening,” he said, dismounting from Folly and running up the stirrups.

Marco nearly fell off at the comment. “W-what?” he stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up too soon.

Farlan laughed. “Come on, can’t you see it? You and Jean are so loved up it’s insane. And you say you’ve been together-”

“Five years,” Marco said. “Six this summer.”

Farlan gave a low whistle as he unfastened Folly’s girth and let the saddle slide off the stallion’s shimmering back. “Jesus, you are what everyone wants.”

“Oh, shut up,” Marco blushed, leading Titan over to his own respective stall and beginning to untack him. Every single building he’d seen in Cape Town was bleached white to keep things as cool as possible, and the stables were no exception. Titan’s dark coat contrasted harshly with the white paintwork, making him the prime candidate for the press and various photographic opportunities. Marco had the feeling that the gelding liked the attention. “You have Izzie back home.”

“Ah, Izzie,” Farlan sighed theatrically. “The wonderful bane of my life. She’s more banshee than woman, I swear.”

Marco snorted. “Not a nice thing to say about your fiancé.”

“Oh, she’s beautiful and I love her, but we still argue. She even hates me sometimes.” He grinned. “She’s a fisherman’s daughter. They know their own minds, and what they want. Can’t expect much else, can I?”

Marco rolled his eyes playfully and rested Titan’s saddle on the stand beside him. He’d met Izzie before, during a brief stint on the Irish circuit, and she reminded him a lot of his mother in her mannerisms. Red-haired and wild-eyed, she was every bit the country girl, and Farlan adored her.

“You and Jean, though… you guys just seem to click. Don’t think I’ve ever heard you getting into a fight. It’s a pretty big feat, being together so long and still being such good friends,” Farlan commented.

Marco bit his lip. “Trust me, Jean and I are good now, but it- uh- took some time to get that way,” he said. It was true that they seemed like they had everything worked out by now; to anyone on the outside, Marco guessed they could be something to be envied. But everything had its teething problems, and they’d had their fair share of that. They deserved to look perfect. The scars were still embedded in their skin, shaped like riding accidents and harsh words.

Farlan noticed the change in mood in an instant. He dropped the brush he was using to groom the dirt from Folly’s coat and clapped a hand to Marco’s arm. “Hey, you’re forgettin’ something. You’re both strong. You didn’t let it consume you. You got over the hurdles, Bodt, and that’s not something everyone can boast about.” Marco took a break, and met Farlan’s smile with a weak one of his own. “Atta boy, keep that smile bright for Jean,” Farlan grinned, dodging the playful punch sent his way.

Titan stood quietly under the attention of the water hose, eyes beginning to brighten again as he took a sweep of the yard. He trumpeted a greeting call to a lead pony being led into a competitor’s stall, and twitched his haunches if the water got too cold. A far cry from how he used to scare horses, Titan was now ignored by the smallest of ponies. Despite his size, they all seemed to have realised that he was about as much threat to them as the boy who tended to him.

The carefully appointed grooms were watching from the other side of the yard, casting unfavourable looks to both horses, but Marco and Farlan were used to it. Trying to explain to every assigned stable hand that their horses were far more likely to be difficult if they were handled by strangers was something never really understood. Titan, after all, looked the picture of good behaviour when Marco was with him. Folly, on the other hand, was far less subtle; he was a biter. The grooms had worked that out quickly enough.

Marco had scraped the last remaining droplets of water off of Titan’s coat when he got a message.

 ** _From: Jean <3 [17:09]_**  
_-When u coming back?_  
\- I’m lonely :( 

Marco snorted.

“Who is it?” Farlan asked, ducking under Folly’s neck to reach his off-side.

“Who do you think?” Marco chuckled as he replied. Just a simple reply, about almost being done and to be patient, but the little sad face was enough to make him grin.

“Aw, is sleeping beauty awake?”

 _ **From: Jean <3 [17:13]**  
__-Hurry up, got a surprise for u_  
\- I’m definitely not naked or spread on the bed waiting for u  
-Just so u kno

“And horny,” Marco said, turning redder than a stop sign. “J-Jesus, he’s such a-”

“He sounds adorable, Marco. In a sexy sort of way.” Farlan laughed at the way Marco just turned redder and sunk down to hide his face behind Titan’s bulk. “Go on, you big goon, go get him. I’ll finish up with Titan.”

Marco blinked. “Y-you sure?”

“Hey, I’m a hot blooded male too, you know. Go get yourself some.”

Marco rolled his eyes, still blushing, but didn’t ask twice. Giving Titan a final pat, he promised Farlan his dessert from the next dinner in return for the favour and set off back to his room. As he ducked into the side door and hit the button for the elevator, he couldn’t help the crackling and twisting in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to be met with, but knowing Jean it was going to get him ridiculously flustered. It was just how Jean was.

Sure enough, as he opened the door-

“J- _JESUS, **JEAN**_ ,” he squawked, slamming the door before anyone walking past could look in to see what the fuss was about.

True to his text, Jean was lying on Marco’s bed with the most satisfied smirk on his face, completely naked with a bottle of opened lube beside him. Marco’s face erupted in a blush so quickly he was afraid of getting a headrush. Jean was still smirking. “Oh my GOD, what if someone came in?!” Marco said, still trying to divert his eyes but Jean was wiggling his _ass_ and _oh my giddy fucking god._

Jean’s smirk widened. “They have. Think I gave the maids a heart attack.” He winked and rolled onto his back and _ohh fuck he was hard he was really hard Christ._ “Welcome back,” he said, arching his back into a stretch, “I missed you whilst you were gone.” Jean moved like a cat, slow and languid as he shifted on the bed. Marco knew full well he was doing it on purpose. Jean’s confidence hadn’t needed to get fed any more than it already had been when it came to sex, but now he was brimming with it. He turned his head with a lazy smile, watching the way Marco’s face got redder and redder as his eyes travelled down the body all spread out for him. For _him_. He felt his own cock twitch at the thought of that. He whined and turned the lock on the door.

“I-if this is your seduction technique it’s a little i-in your face,” he squeaked.

“Hnn, you’d like it in your face, wouldn’t you?” Jean let a hand skim down past his navel, rubbing circles into the barely-there hair. He shut his eyes for a brief moment, relishing the feeling, before opening them to stare at Marco, pupils blown out and irises burning. “Too much?”

Marco wheezed. “I d-didn’t say that.”

Jean grinned. “Y’know, getting a hard on in jodhpurs fucking sucks. Better take ‘em off.”

Marco dropped a hand from his face to give Jean the best unimpressed look he could muster. “Smooth.”

“Didn’t say I was perfect.” Jean wriggled about on the bed again, his cock bobbing a little at the motion, and Marco nearly fainted. “You gonna stand there all day, baby? Or are you gonna come over here and let me make good on my promise?”

Marco scuttled over, almost falling flat on his face in the process as he tried to unbutton his jodhpurs and fling off his shirt in one fell swoop. “D-don’t laugh at me!” he demanded, Jean’s cackling enough to remind him then when it got down to it, they were still the same stupid kids who’d met one summer five years ago.

“Not laughing at you, laughing _with_ you,” Jean said, kissing the tip of his nose as he finally wriggled free of his jodhpurs and kicked them off the bed, along with his shirt a moment later. Marco twitched when Jean’s hands started to run over his chest and stomach, reacquainting themselves with every curve and groove Jean knew so well. His brows were furrowed as he rose onto his knees, planting a slow, tender kiss on Marco’s lips as he altered the map of him in his mind. “You got more muscle,” he observed quietly, dipping his head down to gently kiss along the line of Marco’s collarbone.

“In two months?” Marco said. “I doubt it.”

“No, you have, I can tell,” Jean replied, ignoring Marco’s noises of denial as he met his lips again, and this time sank against him with a soft exhalation of breath. Marco’s eyes slid shut as he kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him and creasing fingers in the skin. It was strange how much he remembered. No matter how long they were apart, coming together again was like having never left for them both; Marco could trace the same paths with his hands, kiss him the way he liked to be kissed, slowly lower them both down on the bed like it was the most knee-jerk, natural reaction in the world. Jean was sinking further into the kiss with every move of his lips, drawing Marco in and nibbling at the edges of his lips as he pulled away.

The moment Jean wrapped his legs around his hips and grinded roughly against him, however, Marco realised Jean might not have been in the mood for softness. His hands moved down from his hair and down past the waistband of his boxers, grabbing at his ass and forcing their hips together more and more. Soon, Jean’s breaths were turning to moans, his head thrown back to allow Marco room to suckle marks into the base of his throat, and Marco knew he wouldn’t be able to carry on for much longer. “I love you,” he whispered to the mark that he’d made, running his tongue over the area with a barely concealed moan at the way Jean was rocking up into his very much awake cock, and paused to look up at Jean’s flushed face. He didn’t even need to ask. He did anyway. “You want me to make love to you, baby?” he murmured, words soft and warm in the air between them.

Jean let out a keening noise and jerked his hips against his again. “W-want you to _fuck_ me,” he said through gritted teeth.

Marco blinked. “O-okay I can do that too.”

Jean laughed and kissed him again, drawing it out as long as he was able before they had to pause for breath. “Wanna try something different, though,” he said.

Marco blinked again. Suddenly, every kinky thought he could possibly imagine invaded his head, and he had to bat them away to get to his words. “Uh, sure, what is it?”

Jean chewed on his lip for a while, causing Marco to frown, before he said, “W-well, I wondered if you’d want to… uh… t-take me from behind.” If he hadn’t been flushed before, he certainly was now, but his eyes were only for Marco. There was no awkward averting the eyes with Jean anymore- especially not with Marco.

Marco’s frown deepened. He sat back on his haunches, casting a look over Jean’s body. “A-are you sure?” he asked.

Jean nodded. “I’m sure. I mean, I love you, and I trust you. You’re not him.”

Something spiked in Marco’s chest. “J-Jean…”

“You’re not him,” Jean repeated. “I wanna do this with you. I want it to be okay.” He swallowed painfully, throat bobbing as he asked, “Is it okay?” in a soft voice.

Marco bit his lip, and nodded. “It’s okay,” he said, scooting closer again and pressing a gentle kiss to Jean’s lips. “If you’re happy, sweetheart, then so am I.”

Jean melted into that kiss, grabbed at Marco’s hair and pulled him down again, tongue tracing the edges of Marco’s lips before delving inside his mouth with a quiet hiss. No matter how much Jean said he was over what had happened to him, Marco could sense the scars raked across his mind like razor blades. He was better, definitely better, but there were times when Jean froze up, when he pulled away and started criticising himself, and it was this part of him that Jean so wanted to make better. It wasn’t about Marco; Jean had to prove it to himself, and Marco was okay with that.

He kissed him softly, skimmed his hands over every inch of Jean’s body he could reach, because Jean need to _know._ He needed to know that Marco would be there for him. The hand not tangled in Marco’s hair started to paw at his underwear, and Marco snorted out a laugh when he heard the whine of frustration that followed. “You want ‘em off, huh?” he asked, grinning against Jean’s cheek when he got an embarrassed smack on the shoulder.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” Jean said, burying his face into Marco’s shoulder and trying his best to rub himself against Marco for any kind of friction.

Marco laughed and kissed a spot just under Jean’s ear he knew drove him crazy. “Okay, sweetheart, okay. You’ll have to let go of me.”

“Mmmno.”

“Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

“Fine.”

Marco pulled away to shuffle his underwear off his legs, ignoring the sulky whine he got in response, and turned back to press a small kiss to Jean’s ankle to sate him. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, returning to the bed and planting more kisses up the curve of Jean’s throat and to his face, “Mmm, my beautiful boy. I missed you so much. Missed _this_ so much, too.”

Jean turned pink at his words, but returned his kisses with a pleased hum. Jean loved being talked to, something Marco had found out early in on their relationship, and the years had finally meant that he was good at it. He had Jean squirming and panting into his mouth after a few more sentences. “M-Marco, come on,” Jean hissed, biting down on his lip so sharply it drew blood. “N-need it…”

Marco pulled away, the heat of the evening already making beads of sweat roll down his back. “O-okay, but we gotta stretch you or else-” Jean took hold of Marco’s hand and drew it down between his legs without a word, though the smirk that appeared on his face when Marco found his fingers sliding into him said it all. Marco’s face went blank. “Y-you…”

“I told you I was getting myself ready for you,” he said, giving a chuckle at the way Marco’s face flushed with colour. “Seeing as you were taking so long, I had all the time in the world.” Marco sunk his fingers deep to the knuckle, checking just in case, and Jean’s entire body seemed to twitch. His eyes were pleading silently with Marco to just do it, to stop being so careful, but Marco didn’t stop. He gave a few gentle thrusts with his fingers, causing Jean to turn his head into the pillow to stifle the noises spilling out of him, before he finally pulled them out. “Okay,” he breathed.

Jean rolled onto his stomach the instant Marco’s words were out of his mouth, and arched himself back towards him, the glance over his shoulder enough to make Marco wheeze. When he noticed Marco lean over to search his bedside table, he laid a hand on his arm. “Not this time,” he said. “I wanna… c-can we do it without?”

Marco paused. They had done it without condoms before, back home when the both of them had actually sat down and talked about it (it was easily one of the more awkward conversations they’d had) but it wasn’t a common occurrence- mainly because they usually had sex in a hurry and didn’t have the time to clean themselves off. But now, they had time.

“Alright,” he agreed, dropping a kiss onto Jean’s lips and moving back into the centre of the bed. “So long as we share the shower again after and you do that thing with your nails.”

“Deal.” Jean grabbed for a few of the stray pillows and stuck them under his hips lifting them up to a better angle, pressing back against Marco with a teasing grin. “Now c’mon, I need you. Please.”

Marco hesitated, one hand on Jean’s shoulder while the other stroked a long, slow path up his hip bone. “Are you sure?” he asked again. He inwardly cringed at how repetitive he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. He had to be certain. Had to make sure.

“Marco,” Jean said, turning to look at him with that burning expression that made Marco twitch, “I have been wanting this for two months. I’m sure I’m sure.”

“Okay…” Marco gave another stroke up the top of Jean’s thighs and gripped his hip to steady himself. Jean gave a little whine at the treatment and let Marco guide his hips to the right angle, resting his head on his fists as he waited.

Marco moved slowly, only pushing half of himself inside Jean at first. Jean hissed out through his teeth and arched his hips up, begging for more, but Marco was patient. Without a condom, everything was all that more sensitive; he was keeping it slow for his benefit as well as Jean’s. Even when Jean let out a small hitching sob and tried to push himself closer, Marco kept Jean’s hips in place, his grip so tight he was sure it would bruise. He took it slowly, trying to remember to breathe as he got closer, and kept his other hand smoothing up and down Jean’s back, massaging the twitching muscles. Once he bottomed out, he waited. Everything was so much warmer and intimate and _fragile_ , and Marco ended up flopping his head against the bony ridges of Jean’s spine. He gave a tiny little rocking movement and couldn’t help the groan that travelled up from the very pit of his stomach at the feeling. “G-God, Jean,” he breathed, running his forehead along the bumps of his spine with a shudder. “Y-you’re so tight, _Jesus._ ”

Jean was whimpering, his entire body shaking as he adjusted to the size inside of him. At every little movement Marco made, however accidental, Jean let out another mewl, another whimper, another sharp intake of breath and a sharp, “waitwaitwait” as he let himself relax. Marco kissed along every part of Jean’s spine he could reach, waiting patiently for the go ahead, and let one of his hands even drift around to give Jean a small pump with his fist. Jean groaned at that, and let his head fall back on his hands. Marco rubbed his thumb over the tip of Jean’s cock, smearing the liquid he found there over the head with a smirk. “Pre-coming already, baby?” he cooed in Jean’s ear, if only to hear the wordless gabble he got in return.

“ _Two_ fuckin’ **_months_** , Marco,” Jean rasped against the bedsheets. “Two. That’s like… fuckin’… sixty days. You know how hard that was for me? I’m practically back to first time status now, for fuck’s sake. I can stretch n’ stretch but it ain’t the _same._ ”

Marco snorted. “Oh come on, I know you got yourself off at least three times.”

“They don’t count.”

Marco gave a husky laugh and kissed a spot between Jean’s shoulderblades. “Ready, baby?”

Jean gave his hips an experimental grind, and let out a small whine. “Y-yeah, I’m ready, fuck, been waiting for this too long…”

That was enough for Marco. He started moving slowly at first, making sure to press himself into every part of Jean and fuck him as slow and teasing as possible. He rolled his hips in steady motions, listening to the breathless pants Jean gave in response, and pressed firm kisses on every inch of skin he could reach. They hadn’t done it like this before. The last time Jean had, it hadn’t been good. Marco needed to make it _perfect._ He owed it to him. “Talk to me, baby,” he murmured. “Tell me how you feel, what you want.”

That seemed to trigger Jean into something a little more coherent than his previous noises. He pressed back against Marco, rolling his own hips in time to Marco’s slow grind, and whimpered in a broken voice, “Y-you feel so good this way, your cock fits in me so nice, makes me feel fucking amazing.”

Marco buried his head in the base of Jean’s neck with a moan at that. It wasn’t exactly a recent discovery that Marco really, _really_ got off on dirty talk, but he never got used to it. “Y-yeah?” he breathed, using his teeth on the next kiss to his neck. “You like this, baby, hmm?”

“Ngh, yes.” Jean’s shoulders were almost rocking as much as his hips, each gentle grind enough to move him without Marco even having to pick up the pace. “F-fuckin… made myself ready for you, did all this for you and it feels so fucking _nice_.”

Marco grinned, and peppered small kisses down Jean’s shoulder blades before giving a single, strong thrust that took Jean’s breath away. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said. The moan that followed was enough to make Marco almost pull out, before driving his hips back into Jean to cause the same strangled noise again. “Oh? You want a little more?” he asked, biting back a grin at the way Jean squirmed beneath him.

“Y-yeah, m-more, I want more, g-give me more,” Jean moaned, burying his head into the pillow to stave off any embarrassment he might have had left over. Marco quirked an eyebrow with intrigue. Most unlike Jean.

He braced himself with a hand on Jean’s shoulder and started to thrust quicker, hips snapping against Jean’s with slightly louder slap than he was used to, but from the way Jean was falling apart underneath him, it was entirely needed. Jean’s hands were curling into the sheets, gripping parts in places when he thrust harder, and the noises he was making were not being held back. They were loud, bouncing off the practically empty room as Marco’s thrusts grew deeper, and Marco’s thoughts finally went to the other people they were sharing the floor with. It was too late for guilt, but there was definitely a flash of _something_ when he realised that they could probably hear them.

He slowed the pace down, varying the thrusts from shallow to deep until they were barely thrusts at all, and he could feel the way Jean tightened around him. Varying the pace was something that drove Jean to distraction, and got the best noises out of him. Besides, Marco quite liked doing it slow, whilst Jean preferred it rougher- this was the best of both worlds. The way Jean was whimpering and whining was already making it hard for Marco to keep it together. “Fuuuck, Marco,” Jean sobbed against the sheets. “S-so good, Jesus _fuck_.”

“Mm, you know what I’m gonna do?” Marco asked, smoothing one hand around to Jean’s chest to tweak and tease his nipples. Jean let out a hiss. “Baby? Want me to tell you what I’m gonna do?”

Jean nodded wordlessly, fists clenching in the sheets again as Marco’s cock pressed into his sweet spot. “W-what, what are you gonna do?” he mumbled, his voice already in the brainless territory that always made Marco’s head spin.

He kept his hands roving around Jean’s body, stroking every inch of perfect skin yielded to him, and smiled to himself. Jean was so beautiful. He deserved so much, and bit by bit Marco was beginning to give that to him. He battled with himself, his nerves, his career, but he knew he could always come home to Jean, and could give him everything he wanted. He could take care of himself- and he could take care of Jean too.

He didn’t realise he’d stopped moving until Jean’s head angled around, the brow he could see furrowing into a frown. “Marco?”

He just let his smile widen, and moved forward so his chest was pressed to Jean’s back, feeling the heat and sweat rolling off his boyfriend in waves, and gave a slight roll of his hips. “I’m going to fuck you so slow and nice, and so fast and brutal that you’ll be begging me to let you come.”

Jean let out a groan and pressed himself further against Marco’s hips, forcing him to bottom out again with a sharp exhalation of breath. “I f-fucking love you,” he whined, craning his head around to land a clumsy kiss on Marco’s already swollen lips, “and I don’t give a shit if there are complaints, I’m making your fucking team hear me tonight.”

Marco laughed and kissed him back, sliding their tongues together for the briefest of moments before pulling back and wrapping his arms around Jean’s chest, burying his face in the salt of his neck as he let his hips roll up against him in the most teasingly slow motions he was capable of. He had been close to the edge before; he’d needed to calm it down if he was going to last. Once he was sure he would be alright, he gave a small thrust and began to speed up again. Jean let out a breathy whine and tried to keep his elbows from giving way as Marco started to bring himself down harder, hands gripping Jean’s hips and almost dragging them back to meet him. “S’it feel good, baby, you like me taking you like this?” Marco cooed, dragging his teeth down Jean’s spine and leaving a small red track in his wake. He wasn’t sure where his confidence was coming from, but he wasn’t going to second guess it. He thrust into him particularly deep after a mewling noise escaped Jean’s mouth. “Bet you do, look how beautiful you are. God, you take me so nice, so perfect, feels s-so good…”

Jean breathed out Marco’s name like a prayer, arching himself back to meet Marco’s faster thrusts with a moan between each word, eyes tightly shut and hands scrabbling for a hold on the sheets beneath him. Jean’s desperation looked frenzied and wild, and was enough to make Marco reach for the hand nearest to him and lace their fingers together as the wet slapping of sweaty bodies coming together rose to a similar volume to Jean’s moans and pants of his name. “I got you,” Marco said, reaching down to kiss the back of his sweat-slick neck. “Don’t you worry, baby, I got you.”

“M-Marco, _ahhh_ , M-Marco, right there,” Jean panted, curling his fingers around Marco’s and shaking against him. “T-that’s it, fuck me right there, right there, oh _fuck…_ ”

Marco buried his face in the curve of Jean’s neck, panting against him as he let his hips buck into Jean without holding back now. The curling heat in his groin was only growing tighter, almost painful as he listened to Jean’s moans, his hisses, his _pleas,_ and that was what prompted him to reach beneath them and scratch his nails down the peach fuzz of Jean’s stomach until he was gripping the base of his cock, unbelievably sloppy with pre-come. “You gonna come for me, baby?” Marco moaned into Jean’s ear, beginning to stroke tight circles against the sensitive skin of his arousal. “You make such pretty noises for me, but you save the prettiest for when you come.” He traced his hand up slowly, sweeping it against the spot just under the head that drove Jean crazy.

“F-fuck… M- _Marco, ahh…_ ” Jean arched his head up and nestled his cheek against Marco’s, mouth open in a silent moan that broke the second Marco’s lips crashed into them, and Marco felt him tense. He pulled away to plant a kiss on the side of his neck and murmured, “Come for me, go on, I got you baby, always got you…”

Jean’s orgasms were never quiet. He came with a loud cry, ducking his head into the pillow as his entire body shook, and Marco gave him a sharp nip to warn him that he was close. Jean looked around at him, mouth still open and panting, and tightened around him. “D-don’t you dare pull out,” he hissed, rocking his shaking hips back down onto him. “W-want you to come inside me.”

Marco lasted three more thrusts before the curling heat sprang loose. He let out a cry almost matching Jean’s in volume as he came hard, his hands flying to Jean’s hips to keep them connected as he rocked onto his heels, pulling Jean up with him to drape his legs over his lap. Jean followed without complaint, turning his head to mouth wetly against Marco’s jawline as they shuddered and gasped between one another. The tension in their limbs slowly turned to lead the longer they sat there, Jean riding him slowly and tightening around him, until they were barely moving at all. Jean continued to plant wet, sated kisses to every inch of Marco’s face he could reach, one hand coming up to ruffle his hair with a pleased grin as the twitches and quakes from their orgasms faded, and soon they were just kissing lazily, lips bumping clumsily against each other from the position they were at.

“Sh-shit,” Jean panted, letting out a slightly giddy laugh. “T-That was insane, _fuck…_ ”

Marco made a noise he hoped sounded like agreement as he nudged his nose against Jean’s, the hand on his hip smoothing around to his thigh. In truth, it probably sounded more like an ‘urk’.

Whatever he sounded like, it was clearly amusing, for Jean let out a tired giggle and nuzzled the side of his face, eyes sliding shut as he sighed. “Ngh, do you think anyone heard that?”

Marco finally found his voice. “Think the whole hotel heard it,” he muttered, running his thumb along Jean’s thigh with a tender expression. “Still, think they expected it. I gave the team warning.”

“Fuck, you gave them _warning_?” Jean laughed and scratched his nails through Marco’s hair, eliciting a noise akin to a purr. “Who do you think I am, Marco?”

“You can’t act all innocent after what just happened.”

Jean hesitated. “Okay, maybe not, but still.”

Marco chuckled and moved so he could ease out of Jean without hurting him, giving him a final kiss before standing up on wobbly legs. “I don’t know about you not being able to walk, I don’t think _I_ can,” he said, holding onto the bedpost for support as the feeling came back to his legs. Jean just led there, happy to drink in the view as Marco let a thoughtful smile cross his face. “What?” Jean asked.

Marco shook himself, still smiling. “Just… one day I’ll pluck up the courage to marry you, you know.”

Jean rested his head on his folded arms and just beamed up at him. Jean didn’t beam very often. “Not if I marry you first,” he replied.

Marco grinned. “I love you, you big nerd.”

Jean attempted a tired wiggle. “Love you too, goober.”

Marco chuckled, then paused. “Don’t you feel a bit-?”

“Sticky and gross? Yeah,” Jean said. “But I, uh, think you’re right. Don’t think I can move yet.”

Marco soon found a solution. Jean gave out a very unmanly squeak as Marco scooped him up from the bed and carried him towards his en-suite. “I think that shower I mentioned is calling our names,” he said, squeezing Jean close to him when he noticed a feeble kick of defiance. “Aw c’mon, we can have a nice shower, then go for food and-”

“Round two?”

Marco rolled his eyes good naturedly as he nudged his en-suite door open. “If you’re up for it. But I was thinking of going for a walk on the beach. The sunsets here are beautiful.”

“Hnn, then sex on the beach?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Aw.”

And when Marco carried Jean into the shower he didn’t let him go, even when the water pelted down on their bodies like raindrops.


End file.
